Chapter 89: Drake’s Hunger
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He nosed open a leaf sealed pouch hanging from the cart frame. Strips of salted wolf jerkies spilled in his mouth. He gulped them whole, barely tasting char, and waited for satisfaction.
Nothing.
The emptiness persisted—a cavernous hole widening behind ribs.
Another pouch. Shelled nuts roasted in charfruit glaze. Gone. A third: smoke-dried fish the catch frog the river, strong enough to make Zephyr gag on good days. But it vanished down the drake gullet. Still the ache writhed in his core like a coal left to burn without air.
Star’s pupils narrowed with rising worry. He pivoted toward the cracked skull of the dead Fire Leopard. Its body still lay splayed on the igneous slab, steam curling off blackened fur. Predators rarely ate other predators, but Star wasn’t any common predator.
His instinct whispered: fire feeds fire.
One testing nibble became a ravenous frenzy. He tore charred muscle, crunching rib bones, slurping marrow seasoned by ember core heat. His jaws worked methodically, using young drake serrations to slice through tendons, as copper wire. The fire leopard body was at least fifteen to twenty times bigger than him. But... Within minutes little remained: a smear of blood, scorched sinew threads, powdered bone dust.
Star paused, panting. His muzzle smeared ash black. The pang dulled only briefly... then flared worse. His stomach clenched as though it was still emptier. All that meat and bones vanished inside his stomach like it was nothing.